


how grand you look threatening the wind

by greatfloraking



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Aromantic Iwaizumi Hajime, Aromantic Oikawa Tooru, Asexual Iwaizumi Hajime, Asexual Oikawa Tooru, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Happy Ending, Internalized Acephobia, Iwaizumi Hajime Is Also Slightly Insecure But Handles It Better, M/M, Oikawa Tooru is insecure, Queerplatonic Relationships, this is absolutely self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:09:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28144389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatfloraking/pseuds/greatfloraking
Summary: “Iwaizumi-san, please accept my confession!” Ichika cries, drawing the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity.Tooru has to admire her guts for confessing in the middle of the hallway, and yet.And yet.Even more than that, her words make him seered.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime & Oikawa Tooru, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, but qpr
Comments: 3
Kudos: 100





	how grand you look threatening the wind

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [stay close to me](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27103519) by [love_yourself_1358](https://archiveofourown.org/users/love_yourself_1358/pseuds/love_yourself_1358). 



> i just want to see the world burn (and then raise it up in my image)
> 
> title from the poem "prickly pear" by federico garcía lorca.

"Shittykawa, I swear if you don't hurry up I'm leaving you behind." 

Tooru sniffs in disdain, not even looking up from where he's looking at his reflection, fixing his hair with intense concentration. 

"You wouldn't," Tooru says, with unwavering conviction like a steel thread in his voice. 

Iwaizumi lets the door to the bathrooms swing shut behind him. "Bye."

"Iwa-chan!" Tooru shrieks, abandoning his hair to its natural waves and hurrying after Iwaizumi.

He makes it out into the open hallways of Tohoku University, where students are bustling to and fro on their way between classes. The crisp autumn air is ripe with bubbling chatter, and groups of people mingle around talking or walk together on their way to their next class. Tooru ignores everyone looking his way curiously as he frantically looks for his best friend in the crowd.

"Iwa-chan!" He calls. "Iwa-chan, where are you?"

“I-Iwaizumi-san!”

It’s a new voice, a voice calling his best friend’s name. 

When Tooru turns to look, he spots Iwaizumi right away. Tooru allows himself a moment to take in the sight of an embarrassed Iwaizumi. His cheeks are coloured a shade darker, even at this distance, and he’s holding himself hunched just a little lower. He’s rubbing at the back of his neck, and he’s grimacing ever so slightly. It’s a rare sight, and Tooru would have laughed gleefully in any other circumstance.

But he can’t bring himself to, a feeling coiling and prowling in his stomach like a caged animal, as he stares at the cause of Iwaizumi’s discomfort. 

A girl. 

She’s pretty, to be fair. She has an elegant air to her even as she trembles, bowing as she holds out a pink envelope sealed shut with a cute sticker. Her dark brown high pigtails cascade over her shoulders with a refreshing and effortless ease. Her skirt is a cute above-knee length and her blouse hugs her frame in a flattering way, making Tooru clench his teeth. And when she looks up, Tooru can see the way her eyes are a bright, beautiful brown.

He recognises her face. It’s Nakamura Ichika from Advanced Lit.

It’s not like Iwaizumi has never received a confession before. That’s not the case. In high school when Iwaizumi realised he wasn’t going to grow any taller, he started on weights and filled out in muscle mass alone. He drew attention away from Tooru and started receiving confessions left and right. He never accepted them, citing volleyball and school as reasons for rejecting the girls and occasional boy, but it never failed to set Tooru’s nerves on fire. 

And now, things are different. They’re in university. They’re just as busy, if not busier, with uni volleyball and their individual fitness regimes and studies and friends, but Tooru can’t help thinking this is it. This first university confession is the start of the end. Iwaizumi is going to realise that he better start finding someone he can date, someone he can settle down with in the future, someone to _replace_ Tooru with. Oh, not on purpose, and certainly not right away. But gradually, like water dripping through a hole from one bucket to another, his feelings of devotion will transfer from his best friend to this girl he doesn’t even _know._

This girl who hasn’t seen Iwaizumi when he’s crying from a loss at volleyball. This girl who hasn’t seen him laugh until he chokes on food. This girl who hasn’t him in shorts and a tank top, racing through the park as a child and yelling at Tooru to _hurry up, idiot, we've got bugs to catch._

This girl who hasn’t seen Iwaizumi in his entirety.

“Iwaizumi-san, please accept my confession!” Ichika cries, drawing the attention of everyone in the immediate vicinity. 

Tooru has to admire her guts for confessing in the middle of the hallway, and yet.

And yet.

Even more than that, her words make him see _red._

Tooru strides forward, throwing an arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulders and turning on the charm with a million megawatt grin. 

“Ichika-chan,” Tooru drawls. “This is so cute! Iwa-chan’s first university confession~”

Iwaizumi recovers from the surprise of Tooru’s actions and throws his arm off, glaring at Tooru with prickly eyes.

“Shittykawa, what are you doing?” Iwaizumi growls.

“Hmm? Nothing, Iwa-chan!” Tooru says with fluorescent brightness. “Just watching the show! Ichika-chan is so brave to confess to a heartbreaker such as yourself~”

Iwaizumi narrows his eyes at Tooru, and Tooru simply holds his gaze with his own eyes slitted and mouth upturned at the corners in a sharp tilt.

“Um, h-heartbreaker?” Ichika asks, glancing between the two of them, rising from her bow and lowering her hands still holding the letter.

“Yes!” Tooru says with a wide-eyed, guileless look in her direction, his voice carrying through the hallway. “Iwa-chan here was even worse than me in high school, can you believe it? He’s so brutal and indelicate with matters of the heart! My precious Iwa-chan totally broke every single heart with his rejection. Trust me, Ichika-chan, he’s not worth it.”

Iwaizumi turns towards Ichika as she bites her lip.

“Nakamura-kun, could you follow me please?” Iwaizumi says calmly, and oh. 

Tooru feels his stomach plummet to his toes. Iwaizumi isn’t looking at him anymore, but Tooru can see the tension in his jawline, the way his hands are clenched into fists and the straight lines of his back muscles. 

The thing about Iwaizumi Hajime is that he’s explosive like dynamite, but when the smoke clears the rubble settles. Tooru is like constant, simmering, flowing lava, always hot but beautiful to look at and draws you in, inviting you to dive in for all its fatal properties. It takes longer for Tooru’s rage to cool, and he has always admired Iwaizumi for his honest display of emotion. But when Iwaizumi is reflective of Tooru, when he is outwardly calm, _that’s_ when things have gone to shit.

Tooru swallows against the dread crawling down the back of his neck like a chill. Iwaizumi is _pissed_.

“Iwa-chan?” Tooru’s voice is small as Iwaizumi turns away from him and guides Ichika forward with a gentle hand on her back. 

“Go ahead, Oikawa, I’ll see you in class.” Iwaizumi says smoothly, without looking at him.

At Iwaizumi’s easy dismissal, the hollow feeling in Tooru’s gut expands, threatening to swallow him whole. He watches absently as Iwaizumi’s back disappears into the crowd and around the corner, and acknowledges in the back of his mind how everyone around him slowly resumes their trajectories, conversation picking up as they go. 

Tooru’s eyes sting, but he pinches his arm and the sting gives him something else to focus on. He turns and his footsteps feel weighted, like he’s suddenly carrying tonnes on his back, but he makes his way to class.

\--

Iwaizumi turns up late.

Tooru is sitting up front and has his eyes on the door, the professor’s voice washing over him like lukewarm water, so he knows the exact moment Iwaizumi arrives. Tooru raises his hand to get his attention, a shaky smile on his face, but Iwaizumi doesn’t look at him. He just heads up the stairs to the back of the room and settles into an empty chair by himself. Tooru’s smile dissolves like sea foam in the sunshine and he glances at the seat next to him, empty save for his own bag standing tall like a sentry. 

Tooru doesn’t hear a single word for the rest of the lecture.

Luckily, or maybe unluckily, that shared class is their last one for the day.

They have volleyball practice now, and usually they would walk together but Iwaizumi shoots a cold look at Tooru as he passes by him heading out the door and leaves Tooru behind. Tooru shivers, before something like a sharp seed plants itself in his heart and he glares at the door. People who would normally wish him well or wave goodbye take one look at him and give him a wide berth. Tooru doesn’t care, doesn’t care, doesn’t care.

Iwaizumi is already warming up by the time Tooru gets to the volleyball court. He doesn’t spare Tooru a glance, but Tooru can read how his shoulders tense before forcibly relaxing. Iwaizumi continues stretching his legs on the floor of the court, head down. The seed in Tooru’s heart digs deeper, prickling harder, taking root and sprouting thorns.

Tooru whirls and stalks off to the changing rooms to switch into his uniform. He changes quickly, movements rough and lacking in his usual grace and elegance. No one is there to worry at him or fuss, and it strikes him bone deep how _wrong_ that is. He feels like his skin is crawling with fire ants buried just under his skin, ravaging his body and mind. 

He wants to play.

And play he does. As soon as he’s warmed up, he’s doing his drills with a ferocity usually reserved for matches. He slams down ball after ball with each practice jump serve, goes all out during suicides, and chats with his teammates with a mask of exuberance. All the while, he keeps Iwaizumi in his periphery, and watches as the other man goes about practice without even sparing Tooru a glance. 

It makes Tooru’s fingers tighten over the ball in his hands, and pitch his voice louder as he talks with the rest of his teammates, as if that would make up for the fact that Iwaizumi is missing from his side. 

Pretty soon practice is nearing its end, and Tooru is practically the centre of attention as he regales a story from his weekend.

“… And then she confessed on the spot! It was the strangest confession I’ve ever received,” Tooru grins wide, so wide, as he picks up volleyballs and dumps them into the wheelie bin.

The guys around him laugh on cue, and through the laughter, Tooru hears a voice speak up.

“At least she was honest with you,” Iwaizumi mutters under his breath. “At least she didn’t play stupid mind games.”

Tooru freezes, before the seed in his heart erupts into flame, setting his entire body on fire. He slowly turns to face Iwaizumi, tilting his head backward. Sickly sweet, he asks, “What was that, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes meet Tooru’s, and it’s like looking into oncoming traffic. “You heard me.”

Tooru’s eyes narrow into slits, and his smile takes on a razor sharp edge. He feels oddly weightless, like his body is lighter and more nimble than usual. It reminds him of the whirlwind of matches, the sweat dripping down his face, the rush of being on court. But instead of the exhilaration of the game, there is only this uncomfortable heat coiling under his skin, tiny parasites storming his nervous system and pushing him, pushing him, _pushing him._

“Say what you _really_ mean, Iwa-chan~” Tooru hums mildly.

Iwaizumi’s eyes flash, and he stalks up to Tooru, hands clenched into fists at his sides. Nose to nose, he hisses under his breath as their teammates watch in sick fascination. “You always have to have everything your way. You don’t care what anyone else wants -- it always has to be about you. Why can’t you think about anyone else’s feelings, for once in your life?!”

It’s quiet, so quiet that the squeaky noises of others walking in the distance fade. It takes a second, but the sound of Tooru’s glass heart _shattering_ fills his ears. 

Tooru sneers, his chest ballooning as the shards rattle. “Makes me wonder why you’ve stuck around for so long, if that’s how you really see me.”

Iwaizumi’s shoulders slump, his eyes widening a fraction. They stare at each other, before Iwaizumi breaks eye contact first by turning away. 

“Maybe it’s time that changed.” Iwaizumi murmurs over his shoulder, before walking away.

Tooru deflates as soon as he’s out of eyesight, ignoring the way his teammates swarm closer in an attempt to comfort. His skin is no longer on fire; instead it’s been doused by the cold wash of Iwaizumi’s words. He doesn’t hear his friends’ calls as he makes his way to the exit.

\--

Life goes on.

Tooru wakes up, goes on his morning run, showers, brushes his teeth, has breakfast, goes to practice, goes to class, eats, goes to class, goes to practice, goes home, does his homework, has dinner, and goes to sleep. Rinse and repeat. 

He doesn’t know how Iwaizumi’s doing it, but they rarely cross paths even though they live in the same apartment. 

Tooru goes out with uni friends once, but there’s a hollowness in his chest and an itch that he can’t scratch no matter how he tries to reach it. His eyes are dull, flat, and heavy. No one notices, because he smiles his way through it. He spends whole minutes in the bathroom in the morning staring in the mirror and perfecting his smile. That’s how he knows it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

Iwaizumi would’ve noticed. 

_If he cared,_ Tooru’s internal voice spits viciously. 

Before he knows it, a whole week has passed with the frosty radio silence between them, and Tooru constantly feels like he’s dangling over an abyss by a fraying rope. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, even though they’re at this stalemate, even though he finds it hard to believe it couldn’t possibly get worse.

And then it gets worse.

“Iwa-chan?” Tooru’s voice croaks and shakes, much to his ire, but he perseveres. “Iwa-chan, what’s this?”

Tooru stands in the doorway to their apartment, holding out Iwaizumi’s laptop. Iwaizumi has just arrived back from a walk to the conbini and he startles at Tooru’s words, dropping his shoes and a small plastic bag to the floor. 

“What?” Iwaizumi glances at his laptop and then back to Tooru with a furrowed brow. “Shittykawa, why were you going through my things?!”

Tooru shrinks in on himself, even though it’s almost like old times with Iwaizumi berating Tooru for doing something stupid. “I’m sorry, Iwa-chan, I was just looking for my favourite sweater in your room and then saw this on your laptop--” 

Iwaizumi snatches the laptop out of Tooru’s hands and closes it, picking up his previously discarded shoes and placing them neatly in the genkan. He picks up the plastic bag with his free hand and pushes past Tooru.

Tooru follows him into the kitchen, where Iwaizumi stands with his back to Tooru, unpacking his food. 

The remains of Tooru’s heart throb unsteadily in his chest, but he takes a deep breath and asks the question. “Iwa-chan, why were you looking at apartments for rent on your laptop?”

Iwaizumi freezes, before resuming his movements with extra care. When he speaks, his words are just as calm. “I think we need time apart, Oikawa.”

“What? But… Iwa-chan…” Tooru struggles to find the words, the right words to express just how _wrong_ that is, to express just how much Tooru needs Iwaizumi to turn around, to scream, to yell, to tell Tooru he’s been an idiot so things can go back to the way they were. He comes up empty, so he just settles for one quiet word. “Why?”

Iwaizumi turns to look at him, and he looks so lost that Tooru wants to hug him, even now, even when they’re hanging over that abyss.

“Because I don’t know what else to do, Tooru. We can’t keep going like this.” 

And it’s Iwaizumi’s use of Tooru’s first name that does it, that really hits home that this is real. This is the make it or break it of their relationship. Tooru inhales, because suddenly there isn’t enough air in the room. Iwaizumi is thinking of moving on. Without him. Without Tooru.

He’s gone so far as to _look up apartments online._

Tooru’s legs give out, and suddenly he’s squatting in the middle of their kitchen at 9:13pm on a Friday night, face buried in his arms and ears ringing. 

Distantly, he can hear Iwaizumi calling out his name, and then the spiky-haired man lays his hands gently on Tooru’s shoulders before shaking him slightly. Tooru raises his head to look blearily at Iwaizumi, and for some reason has to blink him into focus where he’s bending down to get on level with Tooru. Iwaizumi reaches out to touch his face, cradling Tooru’s face and wiping at his eyes with his thumbs. Oh. Tooru realises he’s crying.

“Oikawa. Oikawa. Tooru,” Iwaizumi is saying. “God, you’ve always been such an ugly crier. It’s okay, alright? This isn’t the end. We’ll figure it out.”

“Figure what out, Iwa-chan?” Tooru blubbers, his words coming out disjointed and pitchy. “You’re leaving me!”

Iwaizumi squats. “Oh, Tooru, no. No, no, no. It’s just a temporary thing. And then we can go back to the way things were--”

“How would you moving out fix anything?” Tooru whimpers.

Iwaizumi goes quiet for a second, then speaks. “I don’t know, but it’s better than the silence of the past week.”

Tooru scrambles for something, anything to say. Anything that might halt this train in its tracks and get Iwaizumi to reconsider. Because surely, _surely_ Iwaizumi doesn’t want to leave? Not really. His brain feels like sludge in his head, but like lightning striking a tree briefly illuminating its surroundings, he sees something.

“Did you accept Ichika-chan’s confession?” Tooru sniffles.

Iwaizumi blinks at the non-sequitur and stares at Tooru, hands slipping away from the taller man’s face. 

“No?” He half-asks. “I let her down gently in private.”

Tooru wipes at his reddened, puffy eyes and with a laser focus, goes after the scent like a bloodhound. “Why did you reject her?”

Iwaizumi gives him a funny look. “When have you ever known me to be interested in anyone like that?”

“But Iwa-chan,” Tooru insists. “One day you will be. I don’t know who it will be, or when, but one day you’re going to be interested in someone like that.”

“No, I’m not,” snorts Iwaizumi. And he doesn’t elaborate, but Tooru is suspicious. 

“Why not?”

“Because I’m not like that, Oikawa. I’m not interested in dating anyone.”

Tooru feels something in his chest loosen at those words. His mind whirrs, a different future spinning along down the tarmac and into the bright blue sky. Tooru and Hajime, tossing and spiking volleyballs with the roar of an Olympic crowd in their ears. Tooru and Hajime, bickering over cooking meals and the laundry. Tooru and Hajime, together, always together.

“Me neither.” Tooru blurts. “I-I’ve never been.”

Iwaizumi smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges, and it’s the first time Tooru has seen him smile in so, so long. It’s like the sun has come out after a week of hurricane turmoil, and Tooru collapses onto his backside with an exhale, tilting his head back and swallowing past relief so strong he has the urge to cry again.

“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan. For what I did.” Tooru says, eyes flicking away and then dancing over Iwaizumi’s face.

Iwaizumi’s voice softens. “Me too. I didn’t mean what I said.”

They look at each other, the tension from the past week dissipating like smoke. They’re no longer hanging over the precipice, they’ve climbed the rope and pulled each other to safety.

“Do you think there’s something wrong with us?” Tooru wonders aloud, looking up at the ceiling and leaning back on his hands. “Everyone wants to date someone. Why don’t we?”

Tooru looks back at Iwaizumi as he settles cross-legged in front of Tooru on the kitchen floor with an exhale. 

Iwaizumi shakes his head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with us. So what if we don’t want to date anyone? It’s nobody’s business.”

Tooru shifts, shadows creeping into his mind. He thinks about all the times he’s watched people get together and the longing in his heart for something that he can’t bring himself to feel. He thinks about all the movies and the songs, the ones that celebrate romance. He wonders if he’s missing out.

“Stop that.” Iwaizumi says sternly.

Tooru stares at him, eyes wide. “What?”

“You’re thinking unnecessary things, aren’t you?” Iwaizumi says, crossing his arms. “Well? Let’s hear it. What is it this time?”

Tooru ducks his head, eyes filling again. “It’s just-- I’ve tried it. Dating. You know I have. And the whole time, it felt like I was forcing myself. Like I was trying to imitate what I _should_ be doing, like playing a role, and it was horrible. I thought I just didn’t like girls, so then I tried dating a boy. But it was the same. Kissing is nice, but it doesn’t feel like anything special. There’s no-- fireworks, or sparks, or whatever the movies say. I don’t see the appeal in anything beyond kissing either! It’s all just-- wrong. I don’t care if other people do it, but Iwa-chan. What’s wrong with me? Why don’t I want anything to do with dating? Am I just so broken that I don’t feel love?”

Iwaizumi glares at him. “Idiot. Do you think I’m broken?”

Tooru startles, a shock going through him as he meets Iwaizumi’s glare.

“No!” Tooru cries.

“Then neither are you, dumbass.” Iwaizumi’s gaze is steady and drains of heat, but remains solid and sure. “You feel love. You feel love for your parents, for your sister and Takeru, for your friends. You feel love for me. I know you do, Tooru. There’s love everywhere, and romantic love isn’t necessarily the most important kind.”

“Then what is?” Tooru whispers, hugging his legs to his chest. “What’s the most important kind, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi smiles. “The kind of love that heals. The kind of love that forgives. The kind of love that brings safety, warmth, and spreads kindness. Love doesn’t have to be romantic to do those things.”

Tooru rubs at his face, thinking that over. 

“Iwa-chan is so wise~” he teases. He receives a smack on the arm for his comment, and they both laugh, and the heavy air lightens. 

They’re quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, soaking up each other’s company. The clock on the wall ticks over, and it’s past their bedtime. The ice cream Iwaizumi bought lies melting on the kitchen counter, forgotten. Their fight is a distant bad dream. Iwaizumi speaks up. “You know what I think?”

Tooru hums. “What, Iwa-chan?”

“I think trust is more important than love, anyway. If you don’t trust someone, love means very little. It’s cheap, and common, and boring without trust.”

Tooru’s eyes widen. “Those are strong words, Iwa-chan.”

“You don’t agree?”

“No, I do. I just think…” Tooru swallows. “I just think I must have given you a lot of reasons not to trust me.”

Iwaizumi straightens in his seat, staring at him. “Tooru… you’re the person I trust the most.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Tooru hunches his shoulders and sinks his head down, curling further into a ball.

He thinks about the way he’s coveted Iwaizumi’s attention to the point of poisoning his behaviour. The way he scared off Nakamura Ichika just this week, the way he’s always sent threatening looks towards those that paid Iwaizumi the barest hint of romantic attention. The way he’s always provoked Iwaizumi for scraps of attention, and it works. 

Iwaizumi sighs. “Tooru, you’re one of the most brilliant people I know. No, you’re _the_ most brilliant person I know. You always know how to bring out the best in everyone, and you don’t hesitate to do it. You feel things so deeply, and you care so much. You’re jealous, and petty, but you’re also open-minded and shine brighter than the sun. I could not be prouder to call you my partner. You’re my best friend.”

Tooru’s jaw is hanging open. He stares at Iwaizumi, but then his vision blurs. “Iwa-chan…”

Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “You giant crybaby. Come here.” 

Tooru scrambles onto his hands and knees and then throws himself into Iwaizumi’s waiting arms. Iwaizumi hugs him close, resting the side of his head against Tooru’s. Tooru buries his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder, dampening his best friend’s shirt. 

“You make me want to be better, Iwa-chan,” Tooru murmurs into Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “I promise I’ll be better.”

Iwaizumi’s arms tighten around him briefly, before relaxing as Iwaizumi lets out a light chuckle.

“Idiot.” _I’ll be here no matter what,_ he doesn’t say.

Tooru hears him anyway. Inside his chest, his heart sits glued back together with gold, stunning for its imperfections.


End file.
